Imimorûl
Imimorûl is, in the Nonman tradition, the progenitor and father-creator of the Nonman race, from whom all Nonmen are descended. He is named in The Chronicle of the Tusk as Father of the False. In the Chronicle of the Tusk Imimorûl is presented as a once-glorious God who was exiled from the heavens and entombed far below the earth for the crime of teaching sorcery to the Nonmen. This is disputed by the Nonmen, who claim that Imimorûl sought refuge in the "Deepest Deeps" as a way of evading the eyes - and thus the judgement - of the Gods. According to Nonman scripture, Imimorûl fell in love with the beauty of the World and fled from the "starving sky" to live in the deeps. He cut pieces from his flesh and implanted them in the wombs of lions, which resulted in the creation of sons and daughters. In the legends of Siöl, Imimorûl founded their Mansion directly and died of advanced age, succeeded peacefully by his eldest son, Tsonos. This account was heavily disputed by Nihrimsul, which instead claimed that Imimorûl founded and ruled their Mansion first. Tsonos and his sister Olissis, who were lovers as well as siblings, murdered Imimorûl in his sleep and fled in terror of their siblings to found Siöl.Encyclopedic Glossary II, 'Nihrimsul' This disputed account led to millennia of discord between the two Mansions, leading to the Thousand Year Siege and the later conflict between King Sin'niroiha of Nihrimsul and King Cû’jara-Cinmoi of Siöl. The time when Imimorûl lived is unfathomable, except it was certainly many thousands and potentially tens of thousands of years before Arkfall. The Psalm of Imimorûl The World to him, who sings my song, for I am the Font, the Spirit of the Deepest Deep, and mine is the first heart to beat your blood. The World to him, who sings my song. I, Imimorul, fled the Heavens, so much did I love the brooks that chirrup, the high mountains that hiss, the myriads that bolt through this blessed hair, The World to him, who raises up rooves in the Deep. I, Imimorul, did flee the Starving sky, so much did I fear the Heavens, the wrath of those who were wroth, who would forbid my love, of the myriads of the World. The World to her, who kindles her fire in the Deep. I, Imimorul, did cut from my hand my fingers, and from my arm, my hand, and from my body, my arm, and these pieces of me I did place in the wombs of Lions, so that I might dwell content in my own company. And I became One-Armed, Imimorul, the Unshielded. And you were as children to me, the form of Gods as the issue of Lions, sons who would father nations, and daughters who would mother the myriads of the World. And I sang to you such songs as are only heard in the highest of Heavens, and nowhere in the Hells. We did weep together, as we sang, for woe cares not for names or glory only that skin blackens for bruising, breaks for blood. The World to him, who sings my song. The World to him, who finds me in the Deep. The World to him, and woe. References Category:Cûnuroi Category:Characters from the Ancient North